


Memory

by applecameron



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M, Non-Consensual, Prostitution, TBI, mental disability
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 20:34:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9842678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/applecameron/pseuds/applecameron
Summary: It's the amnesiac hooker trope!





	

He opens his eyes and there's two ladies looking back at him. He's outside. Near a river. Cold. Really cold. He's shaking. 

It's daylight. He can hear cars. The two ladies talk at once. "Hey, you alive?" It's one lady, but he sees her twice. Everything's fuzzy. There's blood on his hand after he touches his hair. 

"Hey, where you goin'?" the two ladies slur at him. 

He goes. 

* * *

He's somewhere and there's lots of buses. He sits and there's people around him, going places with their bags and their coats. He has no bag, no coat. He's cold. 

"Hey, man, you okay?" It's a guy, talking, - to him? He's got jeans on, a leather jacket, and sports a couple fancy rings on his fingers. "Yeah, you. My name's Michael. What's yours?" 

Michael's got a girl standing next to him, blonde, skinny, tits stretching her tight top. Only she's not with him, she walks right past him after making brief eye contact. She doesn't know Michael at all, she's just a traveler, little roller bag making annoying noise at it dances in her wake. How'd he mess that up, thinking she was part of Michael's team, why did there need to be a team…Michael waves his hand. "Yoo-hoo? Hey, kid." 

"'Notta kid." He sways, sitting. 

"Oh, yeah, Mr. Notta Kid? You gotta name?" 

A name finally comes: "Neil." It's an old name. It's a him name. He doesn't know what that means. 

Michael looks him up and down, like he's deciding if Neil's worth the trouble. "Okay, Neil. You gotta place to crash?" 

He'd shake his head, but it hurts so, so much. 

* * *

There's so much pain, he wants to die. Neil grabs his head in his hands like if he squeezes enough, something will dribble through his fingers and the pressure will ease. "Hurts…can't think straight." 

"Well, that's all right, thinking straight's overrated. I got just the thing." Michael produces a blue pill, Neil can hardly see it. "Open your mouth." 

He does. 

"How's that feel. Good, huh?" 

Warm creeps in on him, and the pain in his head retreats. It's such a relief, there's tears on his cheeks. "S'good." His tongue feels funny in his mouth. 

"C'mere." Michael pats his lap and pulls Neil to him. "I know lots of ways to feel good." 

Neil lays in his arms and shuts his eyes. They're on a couch in a small yellow apartment. 

Michael runs his hands up and down Neil's body. "You're really good-looking. Like a model. I bet you get laid a lot. I bet you could make money doing it." 

Neil doesn't catch up to what Michael is saying for a bit, but when he does, he laughs. 

"No, really, you could. You could make good money. I could help you. Be your agent." 

Neil feels really, really good. Michael's hands on him feel good, too. 

Neil doesn't know what happens next, but he blinks a couple times and they've moved. He's on the floor in front of Michael. 

Michael pulls his head down a little, unbuttoning his fly. "C'mon, you're a guy, you know what guys like." His hand on Neil's head is firm, warm. Neil feels like he's floating, his fingers and toes don't want to work. "It's easy." He pulls Neil's head to his cock. "Every guy likes it. I made you feel good, didn't I? Shouldn't you do the same for me? Those pills cost money." 

Neil blinks. He did, Michael gave him the pill that took his pain away, made him feel floaty. He just wants to stay that way, float and not be cold anymore. He opens his mouth. 

They go somewhere, Neil is stumbling, but he still feels warm. He's not sure if it's the same day or a different one. Michael's hand is wrapped around his arm. There's a bed. 

Later, he realizes someone else is fucking his mouth. It doesn't hurt. Nothing hurts. It's not Michael. He looks around for Michael but someone grunts above him, grips his neck and he shudders, goes passive, at the touch. The man's big hand cupping him just feels right. He's done this before. Michael was right. He knows how to make another guy feel good. Just relax. 

When he wakes up again, there's wetness on his thighs. He doesn't remember how it got there. 

"Here," says Michael, leaning over him with another pill. "Take this, it'll keep your headache away." 

Someone else is talking, maybe in the room with them, maybe not. Someone else is touching him, parting his cheeks, thrusting two fingers inside. Michael strokes his hair as the pill takes effect. "That's a good boy. Just be friendly and everything'll be fine. You'll make lots of money." 

He doesn't know how many guys fuck him that night, but he sees Michael counting money at one point, approvingly. So, he was right, Neil could make a lot of money, just being friendly and knowing how other guys get off. 

Michael takes him someplace, there's a girl there, pushes him down on a soft surface, and tells him to sleep. 

* * *

Michael sets Neil's routines. Routine helps Neil keep things clear, at least a little bit. Every couple of nights, there's a party that Michael takes Neil to. He handles the money, says he'll hold it for Neil, since Neil is so forgetful. He gives Neil a pill and then they go someplace, like a hotel. After the first week, they go to a really classy hotel, and Michael passes money to a guy in a uniform in the lobby, who pushes the elevator button for them. There's two of Michael's girls with them, but Michael keeps his hand on Neil's arm. The hallways are all straight lines and angles, but Neil's all soft, the exact opposite, inside he's all loops and swirls and circles. He stumbles. He'd get lost in these hallways if he didn't have Michael. 

Michael introduces him as Neil, who's _really friendly_ and _likes to have a good time_. There's a couple guys there who are interested in the girls, and others who are interested in Neil. 

One of the guys has a camera, but Michael makes him pay more to take pictures of Neil, with his mouth and ass stuffed full of cock. The camera guy comes all over his face, later. 

Neil has a hard time remembering things all the way through, so there's lots of times he doesn't remember getting home from parties. It's a good thing Michael's there to take care of him, and hold his money for him. Without him, Neil would be lost. That's what Michael tells him. He repeats it back to him, and gets a pill for his reward. "Just relax." Michael tells him. It's good money, and it's just sex. Guys always like sex. It feels good, doesn't it? 

After a couple weeks, Michael teaches him how to pick up guys on the street. "It's not all fancy parties, Neil. Gotta make more money, keep a roof over everyone's head. You want to help out, don't you? Pay for your medicine?" 

Neil doesn't have a roof of his own. He sleeps at the girl's place. Learns his trade. She tells him he's got the hands for blowjobs. Puts him in a pair of leather pants. Michael approves of the leather. "You're gorgeous. I told you. Like a model." 

One time, he's sleeping in the little windowseat there and hears the girl talking to someone on the phone. Her name is Jillian. "Yeah, the druggie's sleeping off one of Michael's parties. Come on over, he won't wake up for hours." 

He thinks it's the same day when someone pats him on the shoulder. "Man, he's totally fucked up." 

"Cash cow boy? Yeah, he's high all the time, complete basket case." 

"Cute, though." 

Neil goes back to sleep. 

* * *

After a while, he feels better. The hurt spot on the side of his head isn't so bad anymore. He feels clearer, but Michael still gives him a pill about once a day, maybe once every two days. He's still not good at keeping track of things like that. 

But Neil goes out on his own, now. Michael calls the men who want to have sex with Neil _johns_. Michael gets displeased when Neil doesn't bring him back enough money, but it seems like enough changes every night. Neil might be imagining that, he knows he gets confused a lot. That's what Michael says. So, he tries to do whatever Michael says, even if it doesn't make sense. He writes down the things that he knows for sure on the pad in his pocket. 

Sometimes the girl, Jillian, hits him to wake him up. Sometimes she's just angry. She calls him _stupid_ and _retard_ when she's angry. One time, though, she looked really scared. Neil had been at a party and some guy there made him snort something up his nose, how weird is that, and he felt woozy and like his heart was going to jump out of his chest, all at once. Jillian hit him a bunch of times. His cheeks and chest felt sore. She told Neil he wasn't breathing, that he had to _wake up wake up_! Her face was blotchy and red and she was crying. She made him walk around in circles, leaning on her. He didn't know why. He was breathing now, wasn't he? 

* * *

Neil settles in. He remembers his daily routine without prompting, most days. Bathing, flossing, stuff like that. Jillian puts mousse in his hair. He's got tight jeans and the leather pants and tight t-shirts that fit his body. Some afternoons, it's just the two of them, she dresses him up with a soft, contented look on her face. She loves stroking his hair. Neil loves her back on those days, sits without complaining, just closes his eyes as she pets him and makes him pretty. 

Jillian is the one who tells him he's thin and should eat more. Somedays she tells him Michael said to eat today. He's not sure if she's lying, so he obeys. Just in case. It doesn't do to cross Michael. He's pretty sure he saw him hit Jillian and Chloe, the other girl who sleeps there sometimes, but he's afraid to ask. They were in an alley. He thinks maybe it wasn't real. Sometimes it's hard to tell what really happened and what he dreams. 

It's summer. 

* * *

It's still summer when he picks up Jack. He'd seen Jack's car a couple times previous nights, something sleek and small and expensive-looking. Jack himself is none of those things, he's got heft to him, real muscle, and a hint of tattoos peeking out from under his collar. Neil can't help it, he licks his lips when he spots the tattoos, and Jack's eyes widen, fixing on Neil's mouth. So he does it again. 

"Well, hello, you gorgeous creature." Jack purrs at him out his window when Neil saunters over. He's got a sexy British accent. 

"Hi. Looking for a date?" Neil says. 

"Indeed, I am. Climb in." 

Jack takes him to a decent hotel, and tells him he's safe. Neil doesn't know why, so he just says "thanks" back. 

He doesn't wait for Jack to tell him what he wants. He knows what guys like. Neil pushes Jack down and goes to his knees. He blows Jack slowly, instinct telling him to draw things out, maybe he can get more money. Jack seems like the kind of guy who likes it long and slow. 

He brings Jack up by waves to just shy of coming again and again, on his knees while Jack's seated on the bed, hands wrapped around Neil's head. Neil always gets off on that. He wants to stay like that all night, Jack's hands in his hair. 

Finally, he pulls off and strokes a few times until Jack comes all over his face. 

"Oh, Jesus, darling." And then Jack's on his knees with him, breathing heavy and licking his own come off Neil's face. 

It's weird and kind of gentle and over too soon and Neil's eyes have closed and he didn't know it until he opened them again, Jack's eyes so very close and watching him and their mouths close enough to kiss. 

"Get on the bed, darling." Jack orders hoarsely. 

"Okay." 

Neil comes easily under Jack's direction, Jack tells him to do all the things he likes. He wants to see Neil touch himself, stroke himself, touch his nipples. He throws his head back and comes for Jack. It's easy money. He's cleaning up and thinking it's time to leave when Jack's phone vibrates at him. "Don't move, darling." Jack puts his hand on Neil's hip. "Sleep if you like." 

He doesn't mean to, but he does. 

When he wakes, later, Jack is asleep on the bed next to him. Without his personality to enliven his face, he looks careworn. 

Neil doesn't touch him, just takes his shoes and leaves. He's got his money. Maybe he'll see Jack again sometime. That would be nice, Neil thinks. 

* * *

Sometimes Neil thinks what he likes best are the afternoons when Michael hasn't given him his pill yet, but his head hasn't started hurting, and the sun is low in the sky. It doesn't hurt his eyes too much when it's low like that, as long as he doesn't look at it directly. Those afternoons, everything is full of warm color and Neil feels like instead of him floating, the city is floating in a sea of light. It's beautiful. 

It doesn't happen every afternoon, which makes it even more special. 

A few weeks later, Neil does see Jack again. Michael didn't have a party for him, so Neil's already turned a few tricks in the alley near a place with a sign naming it MURPHY'S BAR. He's got a regular who likes to drink there, so Neil can almost always work up at least one blowjob there on a Friday night, even when it's early. He knows he's been inside lots of times, but bars look all the same to Neil: dark and loud. He stays outside. One time he was in a bar and got so turned around he couldn't find the door, because the music was so loud it pulled him right out of that nice floaty feeling he lived in, and made his head throb like he was going to burst. He doesn't remember what happened next, just the terrible feeling of throbbing, and the way it worked down into his stomach to make him feel sick. 

He doesn't feel sick tonight, though. Tonight he feels pretty good, like the floaty feeling and the edges of the world around him just balance out. Maybe that's what he likes best, those moments when everything is in balance. 

Eventually Neil's headed to Jillian's to crash, but it's a long route with date prospects and a stop with Michael along the way, to hand over his earnings and get a pill. He doesn't have a corner staked out like a lot of the girls do, so Neil just keeps moving. Michael says all he needs to advertise his ass is leather pants and eyeliner. He's got the pants on, but forgot the eyeliner. Jillian usually puts it on him. Otherwise, it's the kind of thing he forgets. He walks slow like Michael says, leaning against lampposts and making eye contact with drivers while slipping his thumbs through his belt loops so his fingers dangle down by his crotch. Johns like his hands, especially when he twists and pulls a john's cock after putting a dab of lube in his palm. Johns like that a lot. 

And just like that, he sees Jack in a car, and Jack sees him. And smiles. And Neil can't help himself, he smiles back. Like they're friends or something. And he thinks to himself, maybe _that's_ what he likes best. 

Jack pulls over and gestures him into the car. 

"Hi," Neil says, a little breathlessly, climbing in. 

"Hello, gorgeous. I was hoping I might see you again." 

"Yeah? Want a date?" 

"I would love one." Jack puts the car in gear and pulls back into traffic. "Buckle up, darling." Neil obeys. "I would love a date for the rest of the night, actually. How much would that cost me?" 

Neil really doesn't know exactly what Michael charges when it's a party, but he figures it's more than a hundred dollars. And this is only one man. But maybe he wants to take Neil to a party of his own? Crap, he doesn't know. He needs Michael for this kind of thing. He realizes he's taking too long to answer and Jack is going to tell him to fuck off any second - "one-fifty." 

"Done." 

"Half up front." he amends hastily. 

Jack pulls a billfold out of his suit jacket and counts out $80 as they idle at a red light. "There." 

"Okay, then." 

"You're all mine?" Jack's smile, when directed again at Neil, is a thing made of equal parts pleasure and fondness, with a seasoning of lust. "For the night?" 

"Yeah, okay." He puts his hand over Jack's on the gear shift. "Okay." 

Jack smiles at him again before turning his attention back to the road. "Good." 

Jack drives them to a nice hotel in the middle of downtown. "Do you want to eat in the restaurant, or get room service?" 

Neil looks at the entrance to the restaurant a little wistfully, but he knows his line, he's here to show Jack a good time. Can't blow him on his knees in the middle of the restaurant, though the thought of doing so, in front of everyone, makes something clench and then unfurl in his chest. "Room service," he says, licking his lips, just so Jack can react, which he does. 

Jack laughs, but it's not at him, it's delighted. "I think we can do both, don't you?" 

They do. Neil works Jack with his hand in the elevator, kissing him like there's no tomorrow, which he normally would never do, Michael says that's not for johns, then goes down to his knees before the hotel room door even shuts behind them, drawing Jack's cock out and holding it gently. He likes cock, he really does, but there's something about the way Jack smells that is extra special. Familiar, somehow, even though he's only done this with him once before. When Jack puts his hands around Neil's head his own cock goes rock hard. 

After, Jack sends Neil to shower, and he uses the time alone to lube himself up properly, scissoring his fingers inside himself. The thought of Jack fucking him makes him feel shaky in his stomach, but in a good way. A fluttery way. He towels his hair, finger combs it, and then pulls one of the fluffy bathrobes over his damp skin. 

When he comes out, there's a fruit plate with cheese and a sparkling wine poured into two glasses on a room service tray, waiting. Jack's clearly been at it already. "You nibble, darling, while I take my shower. We'll have a proper meal after." 

Neil nibbles. He likes the contrast of the harsher flavor of the firm cheeses with the sweetness of the grapes. The sparkling wine is OK, but Neil doesn't really like booze much, so he just sips it, and then drinks a cup of water. 

Sitting by himself, he starts to wonder if this was a bad idea. He could just get dressed and blow out of here. He's going to need his pill soon. He's got half the money already. He could just grab Jack's wallet and run. There's probably more cash in it. Michael would consider it an OK haul for a non-party night. He could get his pill and then go to sleep. 

But. He thinks about the way Jack smiled at him. Like he was really happy to see him. And the way Neil felt, smiling back, and he figures, better to stay, and earn the whole amount by showing Jack a really good time. Work off those smiles. Michael would like it even more if he had a rich regular, wouldn't he? 

Jack puts him further in debt with another happy smile when he emerges from the bathroom wrapped in the other fluffy robe. Leans down and kisses Neil tenderly. "I'm glad you didn't pull a runner, pet." 

"I- … I-" 

Jack silences him with his mouth. 

They fuck, and it's really, really good. Like, Jack wears a condom without making a big deal about it, and lubes Neil up even more, working him like he was a virgin or something, careful and drawn out until Neil is moaning, really moaning for it, not just doing it for the john. He doesn't feel floaty anymore. He feels wonderful, open and trembling on Jack's fingers. Jack slides in from behind, holding Neil's hips up with some strap he pulled out of a drawer, that he says makes it easier for him to fuck Neil all night long. If that is his plan, Neil is 100% for it. He leans on his elbows and feels every stroke. The strap pushes on something on his belly that makes Jack's cock feel even better, but he can't tell him. He can't string his thoughts together long enough to say anything, just inhale when Jack pulls out and groan out his exhale when he pushes back in. 

Neil likes sucking cock, and he likes getting fucked when it's good, when they're both really into it, and this is so very, very good. When Neil feels Jack tighten and thrust unevenly, starting to come, Neil pumps himself once, twice, coming in a rush of sensation, provoking Jack into a deep groan as his own orgasm hits. 

A while later, he's back to earth enough to open his eyes again. Mumbles, "that was fantastic." 

"You were fantastic, sweetheart." Jack rubs along his flank, then grips the condom as he withdraws. Neil hears him disposing of it with a wet sound against the side of the wastebasket. He moves Neil around and tugs them together so that Neil's against Jack's chest, avoiding the spot Neil dampened, and they lie together for a while. 

Neil drifts. He feels wonderful but then he thinks what about his pill, what's he going to do when his head starts to hurt if he stays here all night? 

"Sweetheart, I can feel you thinking something very important. Why not share it with me? Isn't that the point of tonight?" 

"I didn't have my pill yet." 

"What pill is that?" 

"It's um…it's blue." Neil suddenly feels very shy. Why would a mark want to know about his meds? Johns only care about getting their rocks off. But's here's Jack, buying him for the whole night. For a second he thinks how great it would be if Jack bought him from Michael forever, and fell in love with him, and fucked him that tenderly every night. He loses his train of thought, but it doesn't take as long to find as it normally does. He feels somehow more alert, here with Jack, even though he's just had his mind blown with a fucking awesome come. "For my head." 

Jack strokes his fingers through Neil's hair, finally molding his palm to the back of Neil's head. It feels like Jack's hand was made just right for Neil's head. A perfect fit. He closes his eyes and sinks into the sensation. 

"Does it hurt a lot?" 

"Yeah. Just about every day. Sometimes I don't remember things really good, so Michael's the one gives me my pill." Sometimes, not very often, when Michael says Neil's done something wrong, he makes him wait for it until the pain is really bad, until Neil's learned his lesson. Like one time he didn't make enough on a non-party night, and Michael said he had to go into the bar and pick up more johns. Maybe that was the time he got really sick in the bar. He can't remember stuff like that in a straight line, instead it's just pictures and feelings jumbled all over the place. 

But Neil learns his lessons, or at least tries to. He writes the most important things down so he won't forget, no matter how floaty or confused he gets. He keeps his bottle of lube and condoms in one pocket of his jacket, and his notepad and pencil in the other, so he always has what he needs no matter where he goes. He has MICHAEL written on one sheet, and TAKES CARE OF ME on the next. There's a page for JILLIAN, too, with GO TO SLEEP, and a little drawing of the intersection where her room is, and something that's supposed to be an eyeliner pencil underneath that, but it's not a very good drawing. 

(He still doesn't go into bars to pick up his johns, but he makes sure he gets enough to keep Michael happy. He needs Michael to take care of him. That's one of the lessons he wrote down, too. NEIL NEEDS MICHAEL. That's what it says. NEIL NEEDS MICHAEL. On the inside cover is the very first thing he wrote, before anything else: I AM NEIL.) 

"Is the medication from a doctor?" 

Neil pushes at him and laughs. "Huh. No, doctors cost money. But it works. He gave me them…I don't know, when we first met. Said they'd make me feel better. I hurt really bad back then. All over." Neil snuggles his head against Jack's shoulder. "They work. He takes good care of me." 

"How long ago was that?" 

Neil shrugs. He's not sure what today is, anyway. "Dunno. A while. Maybe a year?" He finds it even harder to remember that time. And nothing before. Just flashes of things. Textures and smells, not images. Cologne like Jack's. A thick wool coat under his fingers. Things like that come to him at odd moments. Back then though, he was cold so often, and shaking, and the little pills made him float, and feel warm. They were good for him. Medicine. They made the sex he had back then extra good, too, until he got used to sex with strangers, and could enjoy it, like with Jack, or just turn his body off and go through the motions, for some random john. 

"Well, maybe you're better and don't need the pill so often, now." 

"Maybe." He kind of likes the floaty feeling, though. Where he's just drifting, not thinking. But he likes being in bed with Jack, too. If he had to pick…He runs his hand over Jack's chest, dawdling along the lines of a couple of his tattoos. He's really not sure. 

"If you could do anything in the world tomorrow, what would it be?" 

Neil keeps his fingers tracing along the lines marked on Jack's body. "I dunno." 

"Come on. There must be something." 

He thinks about it for a while, wondering if Jack is working an angle. Shrugs, a little bashful at the truth. "I would do this, what we just did, again." 

Jack gives him that happy smile again and Neil feels something in him soften. He lets his hand drift downward. "Maybe we don't have to wait until tomorrow?" 

"I'm not that young a man, sweetheart, but we'll see." 

That declaration does not lead to another mind-blowing fuck, at least not right away. Instead, Jack strokes Neil's hand with his own, and then says, "Let's go get that fine meal, shall we?" 

And hauls them out of bed, stuffs Neil back into his leather trousers but puts a button down shirt over it, rubbing against Neil's cock with his thick, dextrous fingers in the process. The shirt fits Neil pretty well, which is odd because Jack's so built, but he focuses on the pleasure Jack's hands make him feel. Neil stuffs his t-shirt into his jacket pocket when Jack's not looking, just in case he's getting dumped from their destination. Jack pulls on dark trousers, some kind of really soft sweater, and a leather jacket, and drives him to some hole in the wall restaurant where even though it's midnight or something, Neil doesn't wear a watch so what does he know, there are people clinking away with their cutlery. 

The food is fantastic and Neil has no idea what any of it's called, except for the soup, which he loves so much he asks twice for the name and then has to wrestle his notepad out and write it down, sounding the name out carefully. Avgolemono. It is a soup that matches the evening, even though it's not like it made him come or anything: it's still pretty mind-blowing. 

Jack doesn't dump him from there at all, but takes him back to the hotel, strips him slowly, and explores his entire body with his mouth. By the time Jack has him on his back and is rolling a condom down his dick, Neil is long past speechless with pleasure. Jack slides in easily, bottoming out on his first thrust, then fucks him sure and steady until they're both on the brink, and waits. All Neil can do is let his shameless moans come out, head back, nerves dancing, dying for more, writhing. 

"I've got you, sweetheart. That's it." 

He does it again and again, until Neil is sobbing in his arms, saying the same words over and over, he doesn't know what they are, he can't think, he can only feel, desperate to come, until Jack folds him even tighter somehow, and whispers, "come for me, darling." 

Neil screams and comes. He feels like he comes for a thousand years, he feels like the sun, brighter than anything in the sky, and passes out. 

* * *

Early the next morning, Neil tries to sneak out of bed but Jack opens an eye at him as he's pulling on his leather pants. "Leaving so soon?" 

"Yeah. Is that.." Now he feels embarrassed at getting caught leaving and embarrassed to ask if he can stay longer. And embarrassed that he came so hard he actually passed out. Jack seemed pretty smug about it, though, when he'd finally come around again and wasn't dying or anything. "Is that okay?" 

"I don't want you to, but if you must…" Jack had been so gentle with him after he blinked himself awake, holding him up to drink some water. Neil hadn't realized he was parched until he drank. Then he just kept Neil wrapped up his arms, pressing little kisses to his face and shoulders until both were sure he was really all right. "I suppose you must." He'd felt so loose and floppy and content, Neil wanted to stay like that the rest of the night. 

"M- Michael must be getting worried about me." Neil sits down to put his shoes on, and Jack rolls up, catching him around the waist, but not taking advantage of the opportunity to cop a feel. 

"How is your head feeling?" 

"Okay, I guess." He feels like there's a headache in the distance, waiting for him, one of the bad ones, but it's still far off. If he gets his pill, maybe it won't steamroller over him. It would be nice to take it and float through this day, thinking of nothing but the way Jack felt inside him. Felt holding him. Felt kissing him. 

"I have some pain pills from a friend. They're very strong. Prescription migraine medication. Would you like them? You could try taking one when your head hurts, instead of a daily pill." 

Somehow, Neil thinks that would make Michael angry. He isn't sure why. He remembered the way Michael had pulled his head down toward his cock, after Neil was floating on the blue pill for the first time, his pain easing, his body feeling suffused with warmth. Michael _likes_ him on the pill. 

He isn't sure what that line of thinking means, but it scares him. He's come too far out of his known life and now here is this rich, sexy, guy pushing pain pills on him and buying him for a whole night and feeding him things called Avgolemono and something really doesn't add up, because now he's questioning _Michael_ , whose always been there for him, hasn't he? Taught him how to please johns? Helped him make money so they could live? Gave him a place to sleep? NEIL NEEDS MICHAEL. It's right there in black and white. 

"Who are you, really?" He's still got the button-down shirt in his hands, so Neil drops it in favor of his t-shirt. He's standing now. 

"Do take them, I've been carrying them around forever and never need them myself. They really should be used before they expire." Jack makes a long arm and opens the drawer, pulls out a bottle with a prescription label. The name on the label is Arthur Gittelman. 

"Arthur?" 

Jack is suddenly looking very intent into Neil's face, but doesn't stand. "Yes. That's the name of my friend. I'm here in town looking for him. Those were his pills. He gets migraines." 

"What's migraines?" 

"A migraine's a really bad kind of headache. Sometimes, Arthur would even get shots for them. In the time I've known him, he's even needed the hospital sometimes, they hurt so bad." 

Neil weighs the bottle in one hand, t-shirt still clasped in the other. Then he wrangles the shirt over his head, not dropping the bottle, just stuffing his fist holding it through the armhole of his shirt. Arthur Gittelman. Arthur. There's something about that name. 

"Why are you looking for him?" 

"Because he's gone missing." 

"Are you a P.I.?" 

Jack shakes his head. Then, "I might have found him." 

Neil backs up a step and now Jack does stand, naked and completely ignoring it. "Might?" 

"Might." 

Neil feels like he's about to step through the floor, fall out into space, off the planet or something. "Where?" 

Jack just looks at him. 

He doesn't remember what happens after that. Like a curtain dropping, there's just nothing. 

* * *

When the curtain lifts again there's a guy shining a light in his eyes. He clicks it off almost right away. It's a light shaped like a pen. "Hi." 

He looks around, propping up barely on his elbows. He's on the floor in a hotel room. There's a pillow under his lower legs. 

"What's your name?" The guy - a doctor? - puts the pen light back in a breast pocket, smoothing it into place. "I'm Dr. Feldman." 

It takes forever for him to say, "um," to the doctor's expectant look. 

"That's okay. We'll come back to it." 

Jack is kneeling by him, but there's another name. A different name, swimming somewhere through his mind. "Eames." 

Jack? Eames? sits back on his heels and smiles. It's the best smile Neil's ever seen. "My name is Neil. I think?" 

"Well, if you're not sure that's okay." Feldman busies himself taking Neil's blood pressure. Nods approvingly. "Let's get you up." 

They get him stretched out and comfortable on the bed. Jack's pulled on a pair of jeans and his sweater from last night, for modesty's sake. Feldman pulls a chair over to the bed. "Give us some time." He instructs Jack. 

Jack leaves, pulling a blazer on from out of nowhere and his keycard from a table by the TV. "I'll get some breakfast." 

"Your friend tells me you have problems remembering things." 

Neil nods at him. 

"I'm a psychiatrist. Sometimes I can help people remember, or work out what's bothering them and might be making them sick." 

Neil nods at him, again. 

They talk. Feldman's okay. A little stiff, and Neil can't help thinking it's weird he's on a hotel room bed with all his clothes on, and a guy just talking to him, instead of them fucking, or Neil giving him a handjob or something. He wonders if he should offer. He sits up and toes off his shoes, because putting your shoes on the bed is disrespectful. Then sits cross-legged as best he can in leather pants. He can see Feldman better that way. 

He tells him about his life. About how Michael takes care of him, and gives him medicine, and Feldman asks some questions about the pills, and says he's not sure what the meds are, but that if it's for his head, there are lots of different medications that could help him. Asks him if he got hit on his head, but Neil doesn't know for sure, but he knows there was a time when he first met Michael when the pain was so bad he cried. He knows he saw blood on his hand. That's one of the things he remembers. 

Jack comes back after an hour or so, raises his eyebrows, but Dr. Feldman just shrugs at him. 

Jack kneels by the bed and puts his hand on Neil's knee. "Sweetheart. I'd like you to leave with me." 

"What?" His heart feels like it's going to leap in two directions at once. Part of his body thrums yes and another part protests that leaving Michael is wrong, wrong, wrong. That he'll get in big trouble if he does that. 

It takes him a long time to figure out what to say. It's almost like some other voice, in Neil's body. "Where would we go?" 

Jack - _Eames_ \- rubs his thumb along Neil's knee. "I was thinking of getting a flat, here, if you really like it and want to stay." He pauses. "But Dr. Feldman's practice is in Toronto. If there's a chance he can help you, I'd like to go there so we can be in the same city with him. Together." 

Now Neil really has no idea what to do. This is serious stuff and he doesn't know how to decide serious stuff by himself. A little voice inside mutters something like _of course you do_ , but all the pills, and headaches, and Michael say otherwise. He can remember to put condoms in his pocket with lube, and he can remember his rates - hand job, blow job, anal and bareback - it's like lyrics to a song he knows so it sticks in his head just fine. 

But this is a new song. Then he remembers that moment when they locked eyes last night, and Jack smiled at him and Neil smiled back. Like they were friends. Like they were really friends. 

FInally: "What…what would you do?" He looks at Jack. At Eames. "If we go." 

"Me?" His hand is still on Neil's knee, rubbing gently. "I'd find us a place with nice light, and do some painting." His thumb is tracing circles now. "Take you to the CN Tower. And give you your pills. And I would take you to your appointments, whenever they are. Stuff like that. Toronto's a big city, there's lots to do." 

And Neil puts it together, slowly, and they give him the time, and he doesn't even feel embarrassed about taking so long to think. Jack-Eames wants to take care of him, like Michael only better. Wants to live with him, and fuck him tenderly every night, and be the person he trusts to give him his pills. He could write it like this: EAMES TAKES CARE OF NEIL. 

And since that sounds like the best thing Neil's ever heard in his life, he says 'yes'. 

The smile he gets from Eames for that, is fucking amazing. 

* * *

It feels like only a couple days later that they're staying in a hotel in Toronto while Jack-Eames shops for a "flat", he calls it, and takes care of Neil. Neil gets sick right away when they come to the hotel. Jack and Dr. Feldman say it's withdrawal. Something about his pills from Michael. He's bundled up with the shakes and a private nurse with an IV at one point, and Jack's there to push his hair back for him when he pukes in the toilet (and once, in the sink, ew). Dr. Feldman and the nurse give him stuff and Neil just goes along with it, like he goes along with everything. 

When he's feeling better, Jack shows him the flats he found for them to live in. Neil wonders why they're called flats if they have stairs, because that's misleading. There's one that Jack clearly likes, wants Neil to like too, so he does. It's easy to like anything Jack likes. When Jack smiles at him, it's like the world lights up. They move into the flat and Jack buys him a few new pairs of jeans and some other things, and a digital watch with alarms and stuff that makes Neil's head spin, it's so complicated. 

Lots of stuff makes Neil's head spin. He doesn't want to complain. The migraine pills keep the pain away, but he feels dizzy a lot. When he walks down the stairs from one floor of the flat to the other he keeps a hand on the wall to make sure he doesn't tip over. It's like his head is more full on one side or something. 

Dr. Feldman makes an appointment for him to meet with some other kind of doctor, and - boom - suddenly he's got a zillion doctors. Weird. It was easier when he just took his pill from Michael. He kind of misses the pill. It seems way simpler than lots of doctors and nurses wanting to shine lights in his eyes. That makes his head hurt, every time. 

But Neil won't complain because being with Jack is so wonderful. They cuddle in bed together and Jack just runs his fingers over the bones of Neil's face, and looks at him like he's some treasure Jack found at the bottom of the ocean. They cuddle on the couch - sofa, Jack calls it - and watch stupid TV shows but also episodes of this awesome old show called Alfred Hitchcock Presents that's got _murders_ in it. Neil especially likes the one with the leg of lamb. SO CLEVER. He thinks about writing in his notepad ALFRED HITCHCOCK IS SUPER CLEVER, but never gets around to it. Jack is his notepad, now. It's awesome. 

What's not awesome is all the doctor appointments. He's just done with the withdrawal thing and feeling better and enjoying Alfred Hitchcock and even Dr. Feldman is OK, or at least, not boring, when he meets New Guy Doctor who decides he wants to put Neil in some kind of metal tube thing within 10 minutes of meeting him and Jack. Neil really doesn't want to do it, it sounds awful, like being in a coffin, and his head is already hurting and he hates the stupid paper gown. It's going to rip, Neil's clumsy, he knows that, of course it's going to rip, and then someone's going to get mad at him for ripping it, and what if it's Jack getting mad at him, and he's cold already, he starts to cry without meaning to, and New Guy Doctor looks at Jack and then says he's going to let them talk for a couple minutes and he'll be right back. 

"C'mere, sweetheart," says Jack, and he does. They slide together like Neil was made for Jack's arms and he feels ten times better right away. Jack warms him up and after a while, asks him, "better?" 

"Yeah." He sniffles some and feels extra stupid. "Sorry I'm such a baby." 

Jack just shushes him and holds his head, drawing them apart so they can look at each other. "This chap seems to want to get right to business." He takes a deep breath after Neil nods. "I think that's a good thing. The faster, the better, so that we know what you need as quickly as possible, so you don't hurt so much." 

Put that way, it makes sense. And Jack wants him to do it. So, just like that, Neil will do it. 

* * *

The coffin machine terrifies him. He cries inside it but they tell him stay still, stay still, and he tries and tries and after a zillion years, he's back out again. What New Guy Doctor says after is worse than all of it. There's a thing in his head, a bad thing, a leaky blood vessel or knot or something that makes Jack nod with a serious look on his face. New Guy Doctor says the little times when Neil's cheek drags his face down and he can't lift it back up are a warning sign and he needs immediate treatment. Jack keeps nodding, even when New Guy Doctor says Neil needs surgery. New Guy Doctor makes him take a pill, a beta blocker, right away. 

_Operate on his head? Inside his brain?_ He can't fathom it, it's overwhelming. _There's a loaded gun in his brain and they have to keep it from firing?_ Neil keeps his eyes on his hands as he puts his clothes back on. He can't do this. His hands are shaking. He _can't_. Jack and the NGD are still talking when he emerges dressed. "Darling, Dr. Harrington wants to admit you today. Do you want to stay here and I'll fetch some things from the flat, or shall we go together?" 

It's not much of an option, but he takes it, and Jack's hand. "I want to be with you." He can't make eye contact with the NGD or Jack, they'll read his intentions on his face. He can't do this. He can't let someone cut into his brain. 

When Jack goes to pull the car around, Neil escapes. It's easy, he just flits around a couple corners while Jack's looking elsewhere, pops out a side door near a loading dock, and waves at a couple drivers like he knows them. 

At first, he thinks, he'll find Michael, he can go back to Michael, and everything can be like it was before. But as Neil's walking around Toronto, it's like the walking helps him think, like the path he walks is from thought to thought to thought, so he can see them laid out in a line if he turns and looks the way he came. He's in a different city, now. He'd have to hitch, or pay, to get back to find Michael. So, that's bad, because he's only got a few dollars in his pocket. But, he knows how to earn money, his rates are still a little song in his mind, so what if it's Canada money, that's what they use here. He could do that. 

Then there's the thought of whether Michael will be mad at him for going away. If he had lots of Canada money, Michael might like it. But earning lots would take time, and the longer he's away from Michael, the more money he'd need. And if Michael decides he's mad at Neil, he won't give him his old pill. That's no good. 

So, Neil turns in a new direction, to a new thought. Jack doesn't want him to turn tricks to make money. Jack loves him. Neil thinks he loves Jack back. Jack puts his pills in the same place every day, Neil can find them himself. Jack has funny tricks so he knows what pills he's taken each day, turning the pill bottle upside down and things like that. 

And then there's how Jack is in bed. Neil doesn't want to stop having sex with Jack, he loves it. Jack makes him feel good. 

Staying with Jack is better. 

That settled, the next thought is, will Jack be mad at him if he says no surgery? 

Neil does whatever Jack wants him to do, and Jack wants him to do this. But Jack also asks him his opinion on stuff. If he says no to Jack, will Jack kick him out? Will Jack hate him? But if he says yes, someone will cut into his brain. 

Better to risk making Jack mad by saying no, then trying to find Michael, and not getting to be with Jack. 

OK, then. He'll go back and tell Jack he doesn't want his brain cut open. People have loaded guns all the time, that never fire, he'll say. Proud of himself for figuring things out, Neil stops near a street light and looks around. There's no street sign. He doesn't know where he is. He needs to find the flat. That's where Jack was taking them both, so if Neil goes there, that's where Jack will be. 

He needs to find the flat. 

He doesn't remember the address, and he didn't write it down. Why didn't he write it down? He should never have gotten out of the habit, why did he think he could use Jack as his notepad? Fuck. 

He'd ask someone how to get there, but why would anyone know where he lives with Jack? _Fuck_. 

Something bubbles up from nowhere - _Dr. Feldman_ \- and Neil brightens. Dr. Feldman is a doctor. He runs a clinic or office or something. Neil can find _him_ and then he'll tell Neil his address. 

The first several people who walk past him are all men and Neil is suddenly shy. He doesn't know how to talk to men unless they're johns. But, what about a girl? He could talk to a girl, couldn't he? He remembers the soft afternoons with Jillian petting his hair and is struck with a sense of longing so sharp it lodges under his ribs and stays there. 

He waits until a girl who looks like Jillian approaches him, and then asks her to help him with a hesitant, "excuse me, Miss?" Up close, she doesn't really look like Jillian, except they both are kind of skinny and have brown hair. But she looks up Dr. Feldman for him on her smartphone (it is _very_ smart) and writes the address down for him on his notepad, and the phone number. Now, he'll never lose it. 

He doesn't have money for a cab. "How far away is this?" His head hurts and he rubs absently behind his ear as he looks at the address on his pad. "How do I get there?" 

"Hey," says the girl. She looks concerned. "Why don't I call the doctor's office for you. Maybe he can send a cab." 

Neil tells her his name, and Jack's name, and then slowly sits on the sidewalk as the girl calls Dr. Feldman's office. His head really hurts now. The last thing he remembers is tilting over as she says "oh my god" over and over. 

* * *

The first thing he says when he opens his eyes again, is "where's Eames," only it comes out slurred. Drugs? Something else? He's looking up at a hospital ceiling, utilitarian as they all are. _Toronto_ , he thinks. 

Eames swims into view over him. He looks tired, and fond. He has a book in his hand. Poetry, probably. Eames likes poetry. "Hullo, darling. You look much better now. Comatose is not a good look for you." 

"Hey," croaks Arthur. He's going to say "you look like shit", but memory seeps in and he says suddenly, "Neil was my other name. Not other, it's uh, uh - " He can't remember the right word for the kind of name it is. 

"Last name? Middle name?" Eames offers. 

"That one. Middle." He reaches out to touch Eames, feel his skin under his fingertips. "What happened?" 

Eames says it as gently as possible: "there's some brain damage, darling. Pressure due to bleeding. Two surgeries. You've been here several days." He looks down at his hands. "Very hard to find you." 

"Huh." Arthur rubs at the skin he can touch. "But you did." 

Eames nods. Then, "what do you remember?" 

"Hooking. Drugs." 

Eames nods more. "And before that?" 

"I did that before." Eames' eyes narrow. "Long time ago. Before I was Arthur." 

"Ah." 

More memories seep in. Running, PASIV in hand, sudden pain all over his body but especially in his head, and falling somewhere, falling into water. "And do you remember Arthur?" 

Arthur settles his grip on Eames' wrist. Whether he'd been in limbo or reality, confused and re-inventing himself as Neil, the first re-invention he'd ever attempted, long ago, he didn't know. But Eames had come for him, like he always would. "I _am_ Arthur." Still too much slurring, dammit. Brain damage. God. He soldiered on. ”I _'member_ Eames." 

Eames smiles at him and leans in for a kiss, speaking again when their lips are nearly touching. "I remember you, too, darling." 


End file.
